The Giant Corporations that Started in Night City

Chapter 356 – Tatooine! Crime Paradise! Bounty Hunter Din Djarin!

"Alright then, take care!"

Seeing that Paul had made up his mind, Pani and Sam didn't say anything more. After bidding farewell to everyone, Paul boarded the Rogue One team's shuttle and quickly departed from the frontline base headquarters.

Last time, he hadn't been able to join Chirrut and the others in rescuing Galen Erso, but now he finally had the chance to fight alongside them—to rescue the captured Princess Leia.

If luck was on their side, they might even run into Luke Skywalker or Obi-Wan Kenobi—powerful Jedi who could help Paul further unravel the mysteries of the Force.

Perhaps, he could even recruit them into the Universal Megacorp's ranks and have them work for his boss!

Before long, inside the Imperial cargo shuttle's cabin, Paul was reunited with the full crew of Rogue One.

There was the Force-sensitive warrior Chirrut Îmwe, whose appearance closely resembled Donnie Yen's, and the rugged-looking Baze Malbus, who looked remarkably like Jiang Wen.

Malbus was the weapons expert of the Rogue One team, mainly responsible for maintaining, crafting, and managing their arsenal.

Then there was Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen Erso.

Originally, after rescuing her father, Jyn was supposed to step away and stay by his side to fulfill her filial duty. But after everything she'd been through, she now had a new purpose:

To help the Rebel Alliance overthrow the Galactic Empire and bring lasting peace to the galaxy.

The remaining members included Bodhi Rook, the pilot who defected from the Empire and helped smuggle out the Death Star's blueprints on Galen Erso's behalf.

Also present was K-2SO, the co-pilot droid. Originally an Imperial security droid, K-2SO had been reprogrammed by the Rebellion and now counted as one of them.

Though this mission was a joint operation between the Megacorp and the Rebel Alliance, the entire team numbered fewer than ten people—but that was more than enough for a covert rescue mission.

Soon, the group entered hyperspace aboard the disguised Imperial freighter, speeding toward their destination: the planet Tatooine.

During the voyage, Paul explained everything to Chirrut—the mission of the Megacorp, its origin, and the truth that he was not a Jedi.

"I didn't expect that even as a Force-sensitive, I'd misjudge someone. I couldn't even tell whether you were a Jedi or not."

Chirrut chuckled and shook his head, but there was no trace of blame in his voice.

After the Battle of Scarif, he had already realized that the Megacorp was a mysterious and powerful force, even if it hailed from beyond the known galaxy.

But when it came to allegiances, Chirrut's loyalty remained with the Jedi Order. Now that the Jedi had been eradicated by the Empire, he could only spend the rest of his life fighting back against that tyranny.

For now, regardless of their origins, the Megacorp shared a common enemy with him. That was reason enough to trust and cooperate.

"I'm sorry," Paul said, drawing his lightsaber and handing it to Chirrut. "I think you should be the one to wield this. I'm not a Jedi. I'm not worthy of it."

"No. As long as it's used for the right cause, Anyone is worthy of wielding it—no matter who they are."

"I don't care whether you're a Jedi or not. You've already proven you're worthy of using a lightsaber."

Chirrut was not some rigid Force zealot. He followed the ideals of those who pursued justice and order through the light side of the Force. To him, Anyone acting in the name of justice could be considered a Jedi.

Now that Paul was fighting to overthrow the Empire's brutal regime, Chirrut felt it was only right to support his righteous cause—to honor the people who perished on Jedha.

Of course, the more practical reason was that among all of them, Paul was the best fighter. A blind man swinging a lightsaber wasn't exactly a productive choice—it would be a waste of a valuable weapon.

Having earned Chirrut's approval, Paul took back the lightsaber.

From that point on, there was no need for him to pretend to be a Jedi anymore—after all, there was a real Jedi Master waiting for them on Tatooine!

As time passed, the shuttle exited hyperspace and emerged above Tatooine's orbit.

Tatooine was a massive desert world. From space, one could only see its dusty, yellow-brown landmasses covering the surface.

No blue oceans or lush green vegetation could be found—compared to Arrakis from the Dune universe, Tatooine was even drier and more desolate.

"So this is Tatooine, huh? Doesn't look like a place Anyone could actually live."

Paul thought to himself.

With such a barren and resource-poor planet, establishing factories or mining industries was out of the question. As a result, crime, smuggling, slavery, and bounty hunting became the planet's dominant economy.

You could say that Tatooine was a marketplace steeped in filth and corruption.

Take Jabba the Hutt, for example—a Hutt who climbed the criminal ladder through smuggling, extortion, and black-market dealings. He held vast power on Tatooine.

Countless bounty hunters and smugglers worked under him, making him the undisputed king of the planet's criminal underworld.

And yet, from this remote and forsaken world emerged two generations of Force-chosen prodigies: Anakin Skywalker and Luke Skywalker.

Anakin had already joined the Empire and become the infamous Darth Vader. Meanwhile, Luke still lived in ignorance, scraping by in the backwater deserts of Tatooine.

"Looks like we arrived too late."

Noticing that neither the Executor nor the Tantive IV were anywhere nearby, Captain Cassian couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

To look for new leads, Paul and his team had no choice but to land on Tatooine and see if Princess Leia had left behind any clues—

—or try to gather intel from the local smugglers and bounty hunters.

Thanks to the disguise of their Imperial freighter, Paul's team safely landed in one of Tatooine's cities.

Though calling it a city was generous—it was more like a massive black market.

Due to the lack of mineral resources and an underdeveloped industrial base, the locals had little choice but to rely on underground criminal activity.

Though the Empire technically ruled over Tatooine, it had little control over its economy or public security. The local crime syndicates operated freely and unchecked.

To the Empire, the Rebel Alliance was the real threat. The smugglers, who only cared about money, were a lesser concern.

Paul and the others, cloaked in desert garb, walked unnoticed through the black market streets. On a desert world like this, robes and cloaks were cheap and common, so their attire didn't draw attention.

In this infamous black market, you could find every kind of good imaginable—but the hottest commodity by far was the slave trade.

In the Star Wars universe, multiple large-scale AI rebellions had occurred throughout history.

To avoid another machine uprising, many civilizations preferred biological labor over droids wherever possible.

The solution mirrored that of the great houses in the Dune universe—turn to clones or slaves to fill the labor gap.

Where there's demand, there's business. That's why even in such an advanced technological era, the barbaric and ancient practice of slave trading still existed.

All around, various alien species were lined up for sale alongside ordinary goods, openly priced and auctioned off by their slave masters.

Here, as long as you had money, you could buy anything you wanted. A slave cost little more than half the price of a land speeder.

Having operated on these scum-ridden outer rim planets for years, Captain Cassian moved effortlessly through the crowd, guiding the team like a seasoned buyer.

In fact, the Rebel Alliance got most of its intel from smugglers like these. These criminals often sold information to both the Rebellion and the Empire, playing both sides for profit.

But with the Rebels being the underdogs at the moment, many of these opportunists leaned slightly toward the Rebellion—sharing key info to keep the conflict going and the money flowing.

Before long, Cassian got a tip from a local thug in a dark alley—apparently, a space freighter had recently landed on Tatooine.

Now, Imperial stormtroopers were combing the planet in search of it, offering generous rewards.

Clearly, something important—or someone important—was aboard that ship.

"It must be one of Leia's people, carrying the Death Star plans. We have to find them!" Cassian said confidently.

"You guys are with the Rebellion. Don't you have ways of contacting each other?" Paul asked.

"No. With the Empire actively searching the surface, sending any signal now would just give away their location."

Cassian shook his head. He had a rough idea of where they might be hiding—but it wasn't guaranteed. That's why he needed help scouring the area first.

"Then let's start by locating that space vessel. If we're lucky, we might be able to rescue Leia before the Megacorp and the Empire go to full-scale war!"

Chani offered her suggestion. If they wanted to find someone, now was the best time—once the war broke out and chaos erupted across the galaxy, things would become far more complicated.

"But Tatooine is huge. How are we supposed to find that ship with just a few people?"

Jyn Erso frowned, rubbing her temples. "And we're fugitives ourselves. If we cause any commotion, there's no telling how many Imperial patrols might come down on us."

She remained wary of the criminals on this planet. If someone recognized her face, they might report her to the Empire for a reward, drawing stormtroopers right to them.

After a moment of thought, Captain Cassian suddenly had an idea. He smiled confidently and said:

"That's easy. We'll hire a bounty hunter to do it for us."

On a planet like Tatooine, where violence and money went hand in hand, bounty hunting was still one of the most reliable professions—these people would do anything for the right price.

"Anyone got something valuable on them? Preferably gold or some kind of precious metal," Cassian asked.

In most universes across the stars, gold was a rare and valuable currency—this place was no exception.

After rummaging around for quite a while, the team finally gathered enough valuables when Paul pulled out a gold ring, completing the payment needed to hire a bounty hunter.

They didn't have much choice—these Rebels weren't exactly flush with sponsors. Their rebellion was still in its early stages, and funding was tight.

Only someone like Paul—an experienced field operative—would carry a few precious metals on him at all times, just in case.

"Perfect! With this, we'll have no trouble recruiting a capable ally."

Cassian eagerly collected the gold, currency, and jewelry they'd gathered.

"Who are you planning to hire?" Paul asked.

"The Mandalorian."

Hearing that, Paul suddenly recalled that Reed was stationed on Mandalore for a mission. His impression of Mandalorians was that they were oppressed slaves—he hadn't expected them to also work as bounty hunters.

Without wasting any time, the group followed Cassian into an old, run-down cantina. There, they found a highly skilled Mandalorian bounty hunter.

He wore a silver T-shaped visor helmet and battered armor that resembled a medieval knight. The contrast between the pristine helmet and the worn-out armor struck Paul as oddly amusing.

The Mandalorian carried a blaster sniper rifle on his back and remained completely silent, ignoring Paul's attempts at conversation.

While the rest of the cantina buzzed with drunken noise and rowdy laughter, he sat there like a statue, still and cold.

It wasn't until Cassian laid out their offering of gold and treasures on the table that the Mandalorian finally raised his head and spoke in a deep, raspy voice:

"What do you need me to do?"

"We're looking for someone. A space vessel landed on this planet not long ago, and the stormtroopers are searching for it. We need to find out where the people aboard went."

Cassian kept it short and clear.

The Mandalorian glanced at the pile of treasure, then fell silent again—clearly weighing whether the pay was worth the risk.

After a moment, he shook his head and replied, "Sorry. I'm not taking this job. I'm not about to lose my livelihood over a bunch of Rebels."

Mandalorians were currently under heavy scrutiny and suppression by the Empire. For a Mandalorian bounty hunter trying to eke out a living on Tatooine, getting involved with the Rebels could mean being blacklisted by the Empire and forced into permanent exile—a fate worse than slavery.

As the Mandalorian stood to leave the cantina, Paul suddenly drew the dagger at his waist and slammed it onto the table:

"This is my blade. It's sharper than any weapon you've ever used. If you don't believe me, try it."

The Mandalorian eyed the blade, half-dubious, and picked it up for inspection. "This isn't made from beskar."

Beskar—also known as Mandalorian iron—was an ultra-rare and highly prized metal. Its durability and resistance to lightsabers made it one of the most valuable substances in the Star Wars universe. To any Mandalorian, beskar was more than just metal—it was currency and legacy.

"This is made from Adamantium. I can't explain where it comes from, but I can promise you this: it's not inferior to any metal you've ever seen."

The dagger had been awarded to Paul by the Megacorp's Expansion Division after his distinguished service on Jedha and Scarif. Though he hadn't had time to truly use it, he didn't mind parting with it—what he truly sought was greater merit and recognition.

Hearing Paul's words, the Mandalorian drew his own dagger—a blade forged of beskar—and dragged it across the Adamantium blade.

Normally, such a clash would cleave a lesser weapon in two. But the Adamantium blade showed only the faintest scratch—a result only beskar could achieve.

"I'll take the job. Wait for my report," the Mandalorian finally said.

As he reached for the blade, Paul pressed his hand down, stopping him. "You still haven't told me your name."

The Mandalorian shot Paul an annoyed glance, tightening his grip on the Adamantium blade. Compared to the pile of treasure on the table, it was clear the blade held far greater value in his eyes.

After a low growl in his throat, he finally replied: "Din Djarin."

With that, Din Djarin turned and left the cantina without another word, taking both the dagger and the treasure with him.

Watching him disappear, Jyn Erso frowned and turned to Cassian. "You're just letting him go like that? What if he runs off with the goods?"

She remained skeptical of everything around them. To her, these profit-hungry criminals were just as likely to betray their employers if it meant making a quick buck.

"Relax. Mandalorian bounty hunters have their own code—they value their reputation above all. Unless he dies en route, he'll get the job done," Cassian said confidently.

With the task now in Din Djarin's hands, Paul's team temporarily stayed in the black market, renting a place to rest.

In this kind of place, the Empire's stormtroopers wouldn't dare launch a full-scale raid without solid intel. After all, many of the operations here belonged to powerful local bosses. If the Empire disrupted their profits, even they would have to suffer the consequences.

That made the black market the safest place for Paul and his team to lay low.

"This place has no shortage of treasures," Paul remarked as they strolled through the black market stalls.

The items on display were wildly diverse—everything from Endorian witchcraft manuals to dragon skull fragments, and even lightsabers.

If you had the money, there was nothing you couldn't buy here.

Of course, the most common "commodity" across the stalls remained slaves of all kinds. From fluffy alien beauties to muscular brutes, everything was for sale.

At a time like this, Paul had no intention of playing the hero and buying slaves to set them free. Only by letting the Megacorp take control of the Star Wars universe could these poor souls be truly liberated.

So after browsing for a while, he only purchased one item: a backup lightsaber, mainly for its valuable kyber crystal.

After a day of waiting, Din Djarin finally returned—and as expected, he brought back the exact intel they needed.

"The vessel crash-landed in the heart of the desert. There are traces inside the cabin of two droids—likely an R2 unit and a protocol droid."

"They were captured by Jawas after leaving the ship. After being sold off, they ended up in the hands of a boy named Luke Skywalker."

"Right now, those two droids are at the moisture farm owned by Owen Lars."

"That's the information you were looking for. My job is done."

Din Djarin had proven his worth as a top-tier Mandalorian bounty hunter—he'd uncovered their target's location in less than a day.

It was far more efficient than blindly searching the planet.

"You've done well. Now take us there, and your mission will be complete," Cassian nodded.

"Alright," Din Djarin replied without complaint. Escorting clients to verify the goods was part of the job—and after scoring such an incredible blade, he certainly wasn't going to argue.

The group boarded Din's land speeder and set off toward the moisture farm.

As they left behind the bustling black market, all that remained was the endless stretch of desert.

A dim yellow sun hung on the horizon, evoking the image of a vast desert where lonely plumes of smoke rose into the sky and the setting sun burned crimson.

This was one of the few alien landscapes Tatooine had to offer—aside from the filth of its trade markets and the endless sea of sand.

Even deep within the desert, Paul and the others still spotted patrols of Imperial stormtroopers scouring the area.

To operate in such a harsh environment, the desert stormtrooper units wore powered armor equipped with advanced cooling systems—

—designed to retain moisture, regulate body temperature, and recycle sweat through an external evaporative loop, enabling them to withstand the desert's brutal dryness.

Their top-notch air filtration systems also protected them from inhaling the fine sand that filled the Tatooine skies.

Din Djarin expertly maneuvered his speeder, weaving past patrol routes and avoiding detection.

After countless detours, the group finally reached a quieter, more isolated trail.

Paul and the others breathed a sigh of relief. Without Din Djarin's expert knowledge of the terrain, even with the intel, they likely would have been caught by stormtroopers—or worse, lost in the sands and missed their chance to rescue Princess Leia.

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